


Roll

by Ellie5192



Series: A Little Light Music [23]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie5192/pseuds/Ellie5192
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part two of Rock'n'Roll. "Perhaps in those early years she stayed married because she wished things would change. He imagines the lesson of experience has been an emotionally harrowing one, and is angry on her behalf for that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roll

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve loved exploring the relationship between Sharon and Jack in discussions, and after the conclusion of the Jack storyline in canon it’s been fun to fit this story around what we’ve learned about the man. Obviously, I’ve had to change some things and I felt that the change of circumstance would bring out different characteristics of the characters. Even so, I’d love to hear your thoughts on things, and I might write up a little explanation of my thought processes for these chapters if anyone was interested. I hope this chapter doesn’t let me down.   
> As always, enjoy, and I appreciate any feedback I get.
> 
> Pt. 2 of 2.

**Roll**

They’ve been home from work for all of five minutes and already she’s snapped at the both of them, and she’s sure that if she hadn’t told Jack to go outside and get some air, she’d be calling in all units to break up a brawl on her living room floor. He is now pacing on her patio, looking between them and the view, a curious mix of heartbroken and furious.

Andy had been up and off to work before she could properly wake, sneaking out of her place without breakfast as Jack snored away on the couch. She hated seeing him go, particularly because he looked downright narky about it, but it admittedly made the morning a bit easier to deal with. She successfully intercepted Rusty in his waking moments, warning him of a visitor before he came charging into the living room wielding a lamp or something equally ridiculous. He had spent the morning eyeing Jack from around corners, but as usual their routine was a rush, so there hadn’t been time to linger and ask questions. 

Jack had tried to keep them longer- tried to mark his territory with easy banter and that natural charm- but they had been running late, and she had ushered Rusty out the door as quickly as possible. When Jack had called at her back about seeing her when she got home, she had only given him a dismissive wave of her hand. She knows he must have been annoyed all day about that, but after all, he was the one who so rudely interrupted her space; he was just going to have to deal with the fact that life didn’t stop just because Jackson Raydor blew back into town.

She’s standing with Andy in her kitchen now, just next to the dining table, and the scowl on his face is infuriating, because he’s been in a mood all day over the case, and she doesn’t want to have it out with him here with Jack looking on. They’re both still tired from last night, and liable to say something they’ll regret.

“I’ve tried to be understanding, really, I have” says Andy. “But I have to tell you I have a real problem with your husband thinking he can just waltz back in without so much as a phone call and take up residence in your living room”

“I understand completely” she says. She can’t stop glaring at the floor.

“Do you?” he challenges with a huff, and she reels a little in shock at that, because it’s not like she’s particularly happy about being woken at three in the morning either. She’s grumpy too. It’s not like she enjoys having Jack come and go like the wind, simultaneously reminding her of why she fell in love with him and why their marriage fell apart. It’s not like she welcomes the revisiting of all the hurt, and the last thing she wants is to put Andy in this position.

“What do you mean _do I_? You think I _like_ the fact he’s here?”

“Well, I don’t mean to sound rude, but you sure haven’t kicked him out, and you haven’t exactly cut that last tie and told him to stay the hell away. So no, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to think”

Their whispers have turned into hisses as the anger escalates, and she is glad they aren’t standing close to the glass because Jack wouldn’t be above lip-reading, and he does not need to be a third party in what seems to be their first real fight. They’ve had quarrels before, and they argue all the time at work, but never like this, and never over something so big. She drags him further into the kitchen, and though Jack must surely be watching them, he stays outside, and she thanks her stars for that.

“What happened when you got divorced, Andy?” she asks lowly, brow furrowed, arms crossed.

“She got everything” he instantly replies with a shrug. He’s bitter to this day, and for that she can’t blame him. She gives him a pointed look, her head cocking to the side, and her eyes going wide as she silently asks him to work it out. He stares at her for a moment. “She got everything” he repeats, realisation slowly dawning. “Right down the middle”

She nods, her expression sad and a little bit helpless. “I told you once that I care about Jack, and it’s true. I do care about him, and I don’t want to see him tossed out on his ass. He is family, for better or worse”

He thinks she truly means that, no matter how ironic the repetition of wedding vows may seem. He is thankful that she doesn’t say that she loves him, because he doesn’t think his mood would accommodate that; he finds it difficult to sum up the man’s actions and not want to throttle him, and he doesn’t fully understand why Sharon allows herself to care about him when he only hurts her and the kids in the end. Perhaps, he thinks, she doesn’t fully understand it herself. But family means everything to her; he sees it in the way she has so thoroughly embraced Rusty as her own, and the way she talks about her children. To be considered family by Sharon Raydor is not a small thing, he knows, and not something that can be easily discarded.

Her eyes turn serious as she watches him, her lips go thin, and he can see there is a fire raging inside her that he never noticed before. He can’t explain why a swell of pride builds up at that, but he softens a little to let her know he’s back on her side.

“But” she starts again. “I have worked very hard for over twenty years to separate him from me” Her gaze is serious, and unyielding, and for Andy the last big piece of this complicated puzzle falls into place with an almost-audible click. “This house, my pension, my children’s college funds… all of that is protected by a set of very detailed legal documents, signed and sealed under my name. But it only works if we’re legally separated- if we divorce, it’s all split, fifty-fifty, regardless, because that’s the law. And I have worked too long and too hard for the life I want, to have half of it be thrown away on a poker tournament”

He lets out a long puff of air and hangs his head, shuffling on the spot with his own arms crossed as she gives him a moment to take it all in and gives herself a second to calm down. She is irate in a way he’s not familiar; passionate in a way he doesn’t associate with her cool and calm demeanour. He senses there is a lot of heartache within her marriage, and a lot of regrets, and perhaps for a while there was a misguided notion that Jack would one day reform his addictive ways and come home. Perhaps in those early years she stayed married because she wished things would change. He imagines the lesson of experience has been an emotionally harrowing one, and is angry on her behalf for that.

She can forgive Jack for a lot of things. She can mostly move past the pain he has caused her, or at least come to peace with it. She can even act as intermediary between him and their children, as she has done for most of their lives as he drifted further and further away from them. But as someone who has worked hard and invested her money so wisely, she finds it difficult to stomach the fact that she could lose half of it to a man who would only squander it away in Vegas.

She has thought many times over the years that she should just divorce him and be done with it. Though she cares about him, she recognises that she hasn’t loved him like a husband for a long time; divorcing him would have been the logical next step. But always it came back to two issues- her unyielding faith, and her money. Two sets of laws that govern them, and keep him irrevocably and infuriatingly tied to her. Plus she’s never not cared about him; has never been driven by bitterness and hate like Andy’s divorce was; the way that so many relationships sour. They never really _ended_ , as such, there was just a series of steps drifting them further and further apart, until they were no longer two parts of a whole but instead completely unconnected. She thinks perhaps she should have explained that to Andy better, about the practical reasons she’s still married as well as the emotional ones; she had wrongly assumed he would have filled in these gaps for himself. She’s sorry for that now.

She lays a hand on his arm, a gesture like reaching out and pulling him back to her. His hand lands on hers. She lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. He doesn’t pull her into him, and she’s thankful for that, because it’s awkward enough with her husband looking on. After a few silent seconds Andy sighs again, and they drop their arms.

“I should talk to him” he says.

“You?” She looks horrified. “And say what?”

“Give him the lay of the land”

“You are not going to start a fight with my husband-”

“Not a fight” he says, pacifying her with an eyeroll. “A talk. Man to man”

“Right” She doesn’t look the least bit convinced.

“Look, I feel for the guy… sort of. Not really. But he just walked in to find another man where he used to be, and that’s obviously shattering his finely-tuned delusions”

“You think you owe my husband an explanation?” she asks, incredulity clouding her tone as she raises one eyebrow at him, her arms crossing once again.

“I think it would go a lot easier on _you_ if you let me explain to him that I’m not here to use and abuse you”

“I don’t need you to be my handler where Jack is concerned” she says, and she looks genuinely amused by the thought. “I’ve been dealing with him for over thirty years”

“Thirty?” he squeaks, momentarily distracted.

“From the time we met, yes”

They look at each other, and the mood is much lighter than it was before, and he realises that somehow, among all that, they managed to get through their first major disagreement, and he grins a little. She grins right back at him, but given the confused little frown on her face she has no idea what he’s thinking, so he just shakes his head.

“Let me talk to him” he says again, softly, his eyes kind. “I promise I won’t hit him unless he starts it”

She inhales deeply, and lets it out, and then gives him a little shrug of acquiescence and a matching eye gesture. He rubs her upper arm a couple of times and then walks away, hearing her make her way to the couch, no doubt to play referee. It’s fine. He’d be nervous as hell too, in her shoes. Plus his reputation must precede him.

Andy slides the side door open and walks out onto the patio slowly, his hands in his pockets. Jack is leaning with his forearms against the railing, and even in the dim light Andy can see he’s miserable. He wants to rage at the guy, because who is he to just show up out of the blue after how many years and start trying to control her life. But he isn’t mad, because he kind of gets it, and he knows that at the end of the day Sharon chose Andy, not the man currently standing with his back pointedly turned towards the rest of the house.

“Just so you know, she didn’t want you to find out like this”

“I know that. I know her” says Jack. He sounds a little bit defensive, but not as much as Andy expects from him, and that’s surprising. He seems like the kind of man to fight for what he wants; to see another man and immediately throw down the gauntlet in challenge. Nothing about him suggests that he’s had any kind of significant relationship since he was kicked out of their family home over twenty years ago. And yet every mention of Sharon softens him, and Andy can see that for all the man’s bravado, and for all the mistakes he’s made in his life, he adores his wife, and loves her to this day. He can see how a better version of Jackson Raydor could have been the love of Sharon’s life; he can see the man he used to be so very long ago, hidden under years of neglect and abuse. Maybe it’s because addicts have a way of seeing something more in the mirror than what they really are, or maybe because underneath it all Jack has a good heart. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. There is no use living in the past, and Andy knows that the Raydor marriage is definitely in the past, along with all the heartbreak that came with it. 

“Is she happy?” asks Jack.

Andy is surprised by the question. Surely he could lie, or give any version of the truth he wanted. Surely that question is one for Sharon to answer, not Andy. But then perhaps this is his way of reaching out and trying to understand. Perhaps this is the only way he knows how to give his blessing, and Andy thinks that’s quite selfless of him, because if he was going to lose Sharon he thinks he’d play it as dirty as he could in order to hold on tight and never let go. If he was going to lose Sharon it would probably break his sanity, and he finds a deeper understanding for the man standing beside him now.

“I think so” says Andy with conviction. “She says she is, and Sharon has no reason to lie to me”

Jack looks suitably heartbroken over that, but nods his acceptance. They both look out over the neighbourhood. It’s a beautiful view, more so at night, when the houses illuminate the hills and cast a glow. He loves this perch.

Andy thinks this is one of the strangest conversations he’s ever had. It’s almost friendly, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was with the man’s wife, he and Jack could probably be friends. He vaguely remembers the name Jack Raydor from years back when he was working full time in LA, back before he dropped off the radar. It’s a small crowd really, the police and lawyer circles, and made even more so by the many years they’ve all been around. There are few old-timers left anymore, and a good handful of them are working in or around Major Crimes. It’s no surprise he remembers the name, but he and Jack never managed to be particularly close back in the day; never managed to run in the same cliques, though they certainly had enough people in common. He’s not sure why that was, but it just happened that they never sat in the same bars, and there’s probably something deeply poetic about that. So he knows Jack in name only, and the few things Sharon has told him about their marriage and about their past. He wonders how much Jack remembers about him; about the hothead from Homicide with a bad temper and a drinking problem. He doesn’t bother to ask.

Andy feels the other man shuffle next to him, shifting his weight with his hands in his pockets, and Jack clears his throat to cut the tension. He obviously feels awkward about something.

“You’re everything she needs” he says quietly, nodding to himself. Andy doesn’t ask how he could possibly know that. “I’m not. And that is really damn hard to accept”

Andy could just about fall over. He has to turn and look at him at that, because that’s some admission he’s making, and certainly more than Andy expects him capable of. “I understand” he says, and he really does. The hardest part about being a selfish person- about being one of those people who thinks they can always jump through traffic and not get hit- is accepting that while that lifestyle may work for you, it doesn’t necessarily work for the people you love. He thinks Jack is only now realising just how much he needs to leave his wife alone to get on without him. It’s taken many years, but his children are grown and his wife has moved on, and Andy hates to be the one to tell him this, but it’s time for him to make peace with it. 

“I don’t know how to let her go” he says quietly.

“Can’t help you there” replies Andy, shrugging and looking back over the balcony. He feels Jack turn to look at him. He lets him look, and keep his expression light, because the last thing Sharon needs is a shitstorm on her balcony, and Andy will give him one if he starts it, no questions.

“What do you mean?” asks Jack. He’s challenging him, but when Andy finally looks at him, his gaze is wary, like he really needs some honesty no matter how hard it’s going to hit him. He looks like a lost soul, and for a frightening moment Andy sees himself, and a life he could have lived had he not got himself straightened out all those years ago. He recognises that maybe that’s why he dislikes the man so much, but he can’t help that.

“I mean” he starts, sighing. “That if I’d had her back when...” He stops and shakes his head, dropping his eyes for a second, and he sees Jack do the same. That’s not entirely accurate, so he starts over. “I mean- that if it was me… I would never have given her up in the first place”

He doesn’t mean the drinking, of course, because he buried enough of his own sins with a bottle. He would never be so self-deluded as to say he wouldn’t have started drinking. He means he would never have hurt his children, which is true. He would have come straight back from whatever rehab centre she sent him to and fought to come home; he would not have flitted between cities, making it easier and easier for his wife and children to build themselves a life that didn’t need him in it. He would have slept on her doorstep until she let him come inside, and then slept on the couch if that’s all she would give him, but if he’d known then what it was like to be in love with Sharon Raydor there is no way he would have traded drinking for gambling, and his family for a strip buffet. Especially if she was waiting for him to make that exact decision; waiting for that one sign that he could be selfless. His ex-wife never gave him that chance- not that he really deserved it- but boy, what he would have done with it. Sharon has given Jack a lifetime of chances, and he blows every one, and for that alone Andy resents him.

They look at each other then, long and hard. He can see Jack wants to be angry, and for a moment he is furious. For a single second Andy thinks he’s going to punch him. But then he doesn’t. He just looks back over the balcony with a huff, and then over his shoulder inside, where Andy knows Sharon is still sitting. No doubt she’s keeping tabs on them, but he’s glad she’s staying out of this conversation. This is something he needs to say to Jack alone.

“I’m not going to justify my life to you” says Jack, defeated and defensive all in one.

“I don’t expect you to”

“Then what do you expect?”

“For you to respect Sharon’s choices” says Andy with an amount of indignation. “And respect that the outcome may not include you”

“Sharon’s decisions will always include me-” Andy immediately goes to cut him off, but Jack holds up a firm hand with a serious look, and it’s enough to stall him so Jack can speak first. “You have to know that by now. We are tied together-“

“Only in name” says Andy, grinding the words through his back teeth like it physically pains him to admit it.

“Not just name. You know how it goes” says Jack, wide eyes imploring him to acknowledge the connection. Andy freezes, and they look at each other for a long, silent time. Jack doesn’t seem petulant about being honest as to why his wife hasn’t served him with divorce papers years ago- if anything (and this is very surprising) he seems to almost look sorry for Andy. He looks like he wants to change what he’s saying, but can’t, because the facts are the facts, and Jack isn’t a pragmatist, but Sharon most certainly is.

“I have a lot of things to be sorry for- a lot of mistakes that I regret” he says, very quiet. “But none more than breaking her heart”

Andy gives him a moment of silence to acknowledge what he’s saying, but he’s wary, and a bit confused. “If you asking me to feel sorry for you-“

“I’m not asking that” snaps Jack impatiently, waving his hand with an eyeroll. “I’m asking you to understand that… I get it. It’s over, and she’s moved on, and I’m really happy for her, I am, because I only want the best for her... Andy, if I could change the situation we’re in, I would-“

“You can” says Andy incredulously; furious and frustrated in the same way as when he talks to some of the people at AA who won’t listen to his advice. “What are you talking about _if you could_ , you can, it’s all of your own making-“

“It’s not the debts” he says. “I’ve paid off most of the debts over the years, despite the bad credit. It’s everything Sharon’s worked for- it’s all her money, her home, her pension” he says, and then he sighs, shaking his head. “I haven’t earned a wage even half of hers in almost twenty years- there’s nothing for me to offer in settlement. I can’t do that to her- make her split it with me. And I know it would only go on the tables eventually anyway-“

“So stop” says Andy, his brow furrowed.

Jack looks at him with a resigned expression on his face and a sad look in his eye. “What did you replace your bottle with?”

For a moment the angry tension is palpable, and Andy could easily hit him. He doesn’t hide his past, but he’s not proud of it, and he doesn’t want anyone, least of all Jack, to get the impression that Sharon jumps from one addict to the next. He’s been sober about as long as Jack has; his hair stands on end at the sign of a challenge. He works hard every day to not have just one sip, and he is self-aware enough to steer clear of anything else that could cause the same problems in another form. He won’t have Jack accusing him otherwise. Jack only stares at him, open and honest enough that eventually Andy eases up enough to answer. “Toothpicks” he says.

Jack nods, biting the inside of his lip. “I don’t much care for toothpicks” he says meaningfully.

Andy knows that’s about the most honest thing he’ll ever get from the man; the closest to a confession of sins that he can give. He hears what he really means.

“So you see… I wish I could change it” he finishes. “But I can’t. And I just want you to know that I’m sorry for that”

They stay silent again for a good long while. There has been enough honesty between them in the past few moments that Andy feels he owes him that much. He knows what Jack is saying, under all the denial and self-absorption. He’s not a terrible person, not really, but he acknowledges his actions, and there’s a certain courage in admitting those faults, so Andy stays quiet and looks out over the view. Jack is entirely unable to change himself; it a big admission to make.

“Tell me something” says Andy. “And be honest”

Jack turns his head.

“Did you ever try to… I don’t know, make up for it all?”

It’s a loaded question. He’s not sure Jack is self-aware enough to be capable of atonement; sympathy and regret, certainly, but atonement requires a level of selflessness that Jack has yet to demonstrate, then and now, and Andy doesn’t really think he would ever reach that place. But still he asks the question, because he needs to know that he tried. He needs to know that this man who claims so much guilt, and who professes his love for Sharon even now, at least did something, anything, to try and make it right.

“I bought my daughter her first pair of ballet pointe shoes” he starts with a distant smile, though by the tone of his voice he knows that’s not much. “And for his school ball… I taught my son how to dance”

Andy remembers that he knew that. But it’s a gesture, nothing more. He nods once, and then turns away. He hears Jack breathe out as he leans against the railing again, a completely defeated sound. He can’t muster up the empathy; he feels sorry for him only as far as the man has no idea what he’s missed out on by his own choice. Andy never got to choose the distance his ex-wife put between him and his children. Everything this man has done, he’s done it to himself.

Andy steps towards the door and reaches for the handle.

“You take care of her” says Jack from behind him. Andy pauses, his eyes meeting Sharon’s through the glass, and just the sight of her feels like coming home to a warm fire. “You take care of her like I never could”

Andy nods, his eyes still on Sharon, and he can see that she’s summing up what their conversation has been about in the way he’s looking at her; in the way he can’t look away. She gives him half a smile, which he returns, and he can’t take his eyes off her, so he doesn’t bother trying. Something about this conversation has made him want to wrap his arms around her and stare at her forever. “I will” he says softly.

And then, without turning back, he opens the door and walks inside.


End file.
